


A Chance Meeting

by aphreal



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1710401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphreal/pseuds/aphreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair discovers that sometimes a helpless female traveler beset by bandits doesn't need rescuing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a kinkmeme prompt with the AU premise and written as a deconstruction of "character (damsel) in distress" for trope bingo round 3.

Alistair paused as the highway rose up yet another hill, stopping to scrub the sweat and road dust from his face with a hand that was at least equally grimy, largely defeating the purpose. 

Grimacing with distaste, he shifted his shoulders to resettle his pack and trudged up the slope. After two weeks on the road in high summer, sleeping rolled up in a blanket and eating whatever he could forage or barter for with manual labor, it was no wonder that a layer of dirt and sweat and grime had settled in over most of his body. Still, it was better than the alternative. Wandering aimlessly across the Northlands and Bannorn without a destination or plan was infinitely preferable than being turned into a lyrium-addled puppet bound by oaths to an organization whose mission he was no longer sure he believed in. He’d gladly take the life of a vagabond over that of a templar any day, road grime and all. 

Halfway up the hill, his stomach grumbled loudly, and he was forced to admit that a life free of lyrium addiction and knight-commanders but that also included regular meals would be even better. 

All thoughts of food were quickly driven from his head when he crested the hill and caught sight of the scene playing out below: a group of rough-looking armed men menacing a lone female traveler. The wind that had been blowing grit into his face for the last mile also served to carry their words to him. 

“Your master’s a fool to send his thugs after me like this. I’ll give you one chance to limp back to that odious traitor and tell him what a mistake he’s made.” The woman sounded angry rather than afraid, but given how badly she was outnumbered, it had to be a bluff. “I escaped his grasp once, and if you take me back, I’ll only do it again. And when I do, I’ll kill that sniveling sot of a son of his on my way out. Even a slimy snake like him would have a hard time marrying me to a corpse, no matter how desperate he is to solidify his claim to my family’s land and title.” 

One of the men laughed. “I’m afraid you’re confused, lovey. These fine ‘thugs’ before you have no master besides me, and I couldn’t care less who you marry. We’re simple men with no interest in titles and treason.” He paused, and Alistair could almost picture the leering grin that would be on the man’s face even if the distance spared him from seeing it. “We’ll settle for the usual murder and robbery.” 

The woman’s confidence faltered. “You aren’t here to take me back to Amaranthine?” 

Rather than answering, the bandits took advantage of her hesitation and lunged forward, brandishing a collection of blades and cudgels. Without even thinking about it, Alistair broke into a run, drawing his sword as he charged down the hill to help her. 

Halfway down the slope, he realized that he needn’t have bothered. 

Before the first bandit closed the distance, she’d pulled out a pair of matched shortswords to intercept the man’s attack, deflecting the heavier blade aside and delivering a fast return cut to his unprotected torso. He jerked back in shock at the unexpected pain, and she sliced her other sword across his thigh, taking advantage of an opening exposed by the movement. Howling in pain, the man collapsed to the ground, and she turned to face her next opponent. 

Watching the woman make quick work of that one, too, Alistair began to suspect that his assistance was entirely unnecessary. But it was too late for him to back out now that he’d committed to the attack. Two of the bandits had seen him and turned to meet his charge, so he might as well help her finish them off. 

The fight was over surprisingly quickly. Alistair rapidly determined that the bandits facing him were unskilled and unprepared to fight someone with years of combat training. They’d probably spent most of their time terrorizing harmless travelers with minimal militia experience at best. Thinking about the defenseless civilians they preyed on somehow helped him feel less guilty about their blood covering his sword. 

As the last of his opponents collapsed to the ground, blood seeping into the dirt of the highway, Alistair turned to check on the woman they had originally been targeting. Given what he’d seen of her combat skills earlier, Alistair wasn’t surprised to determine she had things well in hand, finishing off her final bandit with a decisive cut that slipped under the man’s guard and sliced open a major blood vessel. Not feeling the need to watch another wretch bleed out, Alistar scanned the bodies littering the area to check for signs of movement. 

By the time he looked back up, there were knives at his throat. 

The woman had moved so quickly he wasn’t even aware of her approach until she was right in front of him, her blades crossed and resting on either side of his neck, cold steel prepared to open his veins as readily as those of the bandits. Her face was grim, lips curled in a snarl and brown eyes narrowed. “Tell me why I shouldn’t.” 

Alistair slowly raised his hands, keeping them well away from his sides and trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible while holding a sword. “I’m not with them.” 

She snorted. “No one’s with them. They’re dead.” 

Keeping his movements slow and controlled, nothing that might startle the woman considering slitting his throat, Alistair brought his sword into her peripheral view. 

Her blades pressed tighter, and he could feel the skin of his neck starting to yield to them. “You really think you’re fast enough to use that?” 

“Flames, no!” He nearly laughed before catching himself; given the pair of swords at his throat the reaction would probably be fatal. “I’m not threatening you. Just look at it.” 

“I don’t think so. Whatever distraction you have in mind isn’t going to get you out of this.” 

“Right, then.” Alistair stopped himself before swallowing, not sure he would survive the movement. “Well, if you did look at my sword, you would see there’s blood on it. And it’s not yours.” 

“If it was mine, we wouldn’t be talking.” 

“So whose is it, then?” 

“Theirs?” She hesitated a moment before relaxing and stepping back, lowering her swords. “Why help me?” 

Alistair raised a hand to his throat, almost expecting to find it sliced open, but his fingers came away with nothing more than a few red drops from a nick that was only now starting to sting. Wiping the small smear of blood on his already stained sleeve, he shrugged. “I don’t like bandits that prey on the helpless.” The bodies strewn around the road caught his attention, and he gave a small chuckle. “Not that you’re helpless, by any means, but I didn’t know that originally.” 

“Thanks.” She smirked, although he couldn’t guess which part of what he’d said she found amusing. 

Before he had time to work it out, she’d moved to the closest bandit’s body, flipping the corpse over with her boot before stooping to search the man’s pockets. Bemused, Alistair followed her lead, checking another of the bodies. Between them, they managed to accumulate a small handful of coins and a few other trinkets, nothing terribly valuable. Apparently the bandit group hadn’t been particularly successful even before today’s poor choice of victims. 

The woman sighed, rising to her feet and shoving the leader’s body with her foot. “Too bad we can’t find out where their camp is. I could use some better supplies.” 

Alistair nodded, thinking of his own thin blanket and dwindling stash of rations. “We should have left one alive to ask.” 

She shot him a wry, sideways grin. “I thought I had.” 

Chuckling uncomfortably, he resisted the urge to rub at his throat. He could almost still feel the bite of her blades against his skin. He tried to shrug it off, changing the subject. “So where are you headed?” 

She hesitated before answering. “Redcliffe.” 

“I used to live there.” Alistair hadn’t thought much about a destination for his wandering, but he gave it some serious thought now. Maybe Redcliffe hadn’t always been the best home, but there was an element of nostalgia to his memories of the events at this point. He could think of a lot of worse places to be. “It’s dangerous to be on the road alone. Would you mind if I joined you for protection?” 

“You think I need your protection?” 

“No, I would never suggest that.” He gestured at the former bandits. “After seeing you fight, I was hoping for yours.” 

Her sudden laugh was unexpected and beautiful, like spring rain. Like freedom. 

Emboldened, he stuck out a hand to her. “I’m Alistair, by the way.” 

She took it with a faint half-smile, lips quirked with bemusement. “Elissa.”


End file.
